I Write words upon words upon paper upon germs
by SkP Media
Onto my table on my floor upon the dirt above the core
Of the earth for what it’s worth
I write words upon words.
What is it like to put pen to a piece of paper
Sweat seeping between your thumb and your middle finger
Racing thoughts finally divide
Then there’s a sence of peace inside
The page release’s rage built from all the tears I cried.
We got an evolution happening in the streets
Lots of jaws flapping screaming ‘ we don’t agree! ‘
Everywhere you go you can feel the intensity
Americans are sick if they haven’t lived through therapy.
I’m stuck in the middle believe me I aint free
Anyone who knows me sees the pain in me
Restlessly avading, believe me, I’m still hatin’
Creating an atmosphere of violence
I know exactly who I’m baiting.
go turn on Jerry Springer and you’ll see why America needs therapy.
In real life the fists fly tring to produce the remedy.
Apparently, most American families got dropped to rot from the same family tree.
Abusive cycles repeat, dramatic plays to read,
It’s so fucking easy to see.
How come it’s me out in the country smoking weed and eating fake lunch meat?
Isolating myself and skipping therapy?
Why must I lay on the couch and let Katie take care of me.
I’d rather sit on the roof and let crows suicide bomb on me
Open my mouth and mouth off to God untill that bitch comes back to me.
After Jerry comes Maury Polvitch
Little black grrl with a dibilitating diease.
She’s standing tall to show the whole world she can sing.
I’m still procrastanating, this fourteen year old grrl
Has accomplished more in life then me…….
……..oh shit! ! Now Maury’s got a grrl with no face.
She’s singing too, I can’t catch a fucking break.
She’s got a message for God
One that I can’t fake
Why can’t I get off my ass, for motherfucking sake?
My medicen’s not working, my doctors don’t know shit
Every time I get upset, they just wanna tweek that shit
Until I can’t fit in my cloth and all my friendships errode
Give me that perscription pad before I fucking